


Tell Me

by Jo (jmathieson)



Series: Tangents and Intersections ~ Kink Bingo 2013 [48]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bedside Vigils, Community: kink_bingo, Condoms, Interrogation, M/M, Mission Fic, Relationship Negotiation, Safer Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-05
Updated: 2013-09-05
Packaged: 2017-12-25 18:03:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/956089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jmathieson/pseuds/Jo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil has a bad habit of saying what's on his mind when drugged.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tell Me

**Author's Note:**

> Kink Bingo Round Six (2013) ~ Torture / Interrogation

They were taking out a HYDRA base. Or rather, they were supposed to be taking out a HYDRA base, what they were actually doing was just holding their own in a firefight that never should have happened if the intel had been accurate, which, obviously it hadn't been.

Clint was up high on a convenient catwalk, trying to take out the guys with automatic rifles who had most of the rest of the team pinned down near the front of the building. 

"How many left, Barton?"

"Seven that I can see. Six. Diaz just got one. Good shot 'Nita."

"Thanks," came through the comms as Diaz ducked back behind a pillar to avoid the hail of gunfire in her direction. Clint got a bead on one of the shooters and took him out with an arrow through his throat. Clint turned to see an agent near Phil step out from behind cover to try to get a shot on one of the other bad guys still firing up at Diaz's location. 

"Brown, no!" Coulson saw one of the shooters swinging towards Brown, and moved out from cover himself, firing. Clint shot just as a line of automatic rifle fire ripped across Coulson's chest.

"Phil!" Clint screamed, then "Diaz, cover me!" Clint shot a grappling hook arrow into the ceiling and leapt off the catwalk. Brown was still firing and Diaz took out one more HYDRA agent as he finally ducked back behind a crate.

Clint landed ten feet from where Phil was lying motionless, and shot two of the bad guys who were firing at him as he ran. Diaz got the remaining one as he turned to escape. 

"Phil. Phil!" Clint landed on his knees next to him, and tore open his SHIELD windbreaker, to see three holes in his vest. There was also blood coming from a gash in Phil's left arm, and a nasty-looking scrape on the side of his forehead. 

"Medic. We need a medic in the warehouse. Agent down!" Clint could hear Diaz and Brown confirming that the area was clear, but his attention was on Phil. He could see that Phil was taking shallow, rasping breaths, and Clint started to unfasten his bulletproof vest, afraid of what he was going to find underneath. He sighed heavily when he found nothing. Phil's body armor had stopped the bullets, nothing had gotten through. 

"Phil, wake up. You're OK, you're fine. Open your eyes for me, Phil." Clint said while he wadded up the sleeve of the windbreaker and tried to use it to stop the flow of blood from Phil's arm.

Phil's eyes opened, and he blinked a couple of times before focusing on Clint's face.

"Hey," he said weakly.

"Hey yourself. Where does it hurt?" Clint started patting down Phil's body with his free hand, trying to make sure there were no other injuries.

"Head, chest, arm."

"OK, good. You're fine. You must have hit your head when you went down, you're going to have a nice lump, and this gash in your arm is probably going to need stitches."

Phil was struggling to sit up and Clint tried to help him, sliding his arm around the back of Phil's shoulders. As soon as he moved though, Phil went rigid and white.

"Phil?" Clint couldn't keep the alarm out of his voice.

Phil lay back, panting shallowly.

"Phil, talk to me, please."

"Ribs." Phil gasped, and Clint relaxed. Of course, the body armor had stopped the bullets, but they still probably bruised or cracked a rib or two, and as Clint knew from extensive experience, cracked ribs could hurt like hell.

"OK, the medic'll be here in a minute. Just lie still, you're going to be fine."

Phil nodded and started asking operational questions and giving instructions for Clint to relay through the comms between shallow breaths.

Six hours later Clint was sitting by Phil's bedside in SHIELD medical, listening to Dr. Sanchez explain that she wanted to keep him in observation for another 8 hours before sending him home.

"We've done a CT scan, and we're pretty sure you don't have a concussion, but because we've got you on some pretty strong pain medication for your ribs, we just want to make absolutely sure before we send you home. You should try to get some sleep, but we'll be waking you every couple of hours."

"I understand, Doctor. Thank you." Phil was able to talk more easily, now that he was on pain medication and propped up in a hospital bed at a 45 degree angle to help make breathing easier. The doctor nodded and left.

"You should go home and get some sleep," Phil said, turning his head to look at Clint.

"Yeah, right. Like I'm going to go home while you're here."

"I'm fine, Clint. You heard what the doctor said, they're just keeping me in as a precaution. I'll be home first thing tomorrow morning."

"Yes. And I'll be right here until then. No arguments, Phil, so save your breath. And try to sleep, like the doc said, OK?" Clint's voice softened and he reached out to stroke Phil's hand.

"OK," Phil said, already starting to drift off. "Oh, remind me later, there's something I want to talk to you about."

"Sure Phil, sure thing. Now go to sleep."

Clint watched Phil sleep for an hour, then he got up, stretched, and headed for the locker rooms so that he could strip out of his tac gear, shower, and put on some clean clothes. On the way back to medical, he stopped at a vending machine and bought a couple of candy bars and a cup of black coffee before resuming his vigil at Phil's bedside. A little while later a nurse came in and checked the readings on the monitors.

She smiled at Clint.

"Everything looks just fine. I need to wake him up now, do you want to do it?"

"Sure." Clint stood up and leaned in close to Phil, "Phil, wake up. The nurse needs to talk to you for a minute." Phil's eyes opened, and he smiled at Clint before looking over at the nurse, who unclipped a pencil flashlight.

"I just need to check your pupils. Good. Can you tell me what month it is Agent Coulson?"

"December. If it's after midnight, it's the 9th today."

"Excellent, any headache or nausea?"

"This," Phil gestured to the egg-sized lump on his forehead, "throbs a little, but that's it."

"That's normal. You seem just fine, sir, you can go back to sleep now."

"Thanks." He turned to Clint, "Why are you drinking vending machine coffee? That stuff is vile."

"Yeah, well it's hot and wet. I couldn't be bothered to go to the commissary or back to your office to make some."

"And you got a couple of Snickers bars, too, and that's all you've had to eat since before the op."

"I'll be fine, Phil. I'll go get something from the commissary later. So, what was that thing you wanted to talk to me about?"

"Oh. Ah, not here. I meant remind me when we get home."

"OK, sure. You gonna go back to sleep now?"

"Yes, dear." Clint grinned and leaned over to kiss him on the cheek.

"Sweet dreams."

The next morning after another visit from Doctor Sanchez, and some time spent arranging transport, Clint was helping Phil gingerly climb out of a car and make his way slowly up their front walk.

"Straight up to bed," Clint said, kicking the door closed behind them. Phil would have argued, but just the walk from the curb to the front door had made his ribs ache fiercely, so he let Clint baby him up the stairs and into bed.

Clint fussed with pillows and blankets and a glass of water and a box of tissues and asked Phil if he wanted a book or the TV on or a movie to watch.

"I'm fine, Clint, thank you."

"If you're sure, I'm gonna lie down next to you and take a nap, OK?"

"Of course it's OK." Phil smiled fondly and rested a hand on Clint's hip until he started to snore.

Clint woke up four hours later, scrubbing a hand over his face and asking Phil what the time was.

"Shit, I've got to get your pills," he said, when Phil told him. "You should have woken me."

"I'm fine. And I would have woken you if I needed to."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"OK. Be right back."

Clint brought Phil's pain medication and a fresh glass of water. Once Phil had swallowed the pills, Clint sat next to him on the bed and asked,

"So, that thing you wanted to talk to me about?"

"What thing?"

"When you were in medical, you said there was something you wanted to talk to me about. You asked me to remind you. Don't you remember? Is your head OK? Should I call Dr. Sanchez?"

"No, no. I'm fine. I remember." Phil sighed, "That was while they had me on the good drugs, wasn't it?"

"Phil."

"What?"

"This isn't the first time this has happened. I'm beginning to worry that there’s all sorts of stuff that you should be telling me about that you're putting off until you get drugged and start to blab."

"It's not like that. It's just... being in medical reminded me, that's all."

"Reminded you of what?"

"Look, Clint, we've both had a rough couple of days. Leave it for now, OK? I'll tell you about it later."

Clint was inclined to press the matter, but Phil did look pretty bad, and neither of them were in shape for a serious discussion, which this obviously was going to be.

"OK, just... it's.... it's nothing bad, is it?"

"No, no of course not Clint. I promise, it's nothing bad."

"OK, then I guess it can wait until you're feeling better. Now, I'm starving and you probably are too. What do you want to eat? I can nuke something or order something, whatever you want..."

~~~~~

For the next two days, Clint fetched and carried, helped Phil to the bathroom, plumped his pillows, fed him, made sure he took his pills on time and did his breathing exercises, and even offered to give him a bed bath. On the third day, Phil felt well enough to get out of bed and made it as far as the living room sofa. After much adjusting of cushions, they were both settled comfortably.

"So, about that thing you wanted to talk to me about."

Phil looked at his hands.

"Look, Phil, if you want me to just drop it, I will. But it's kinda starting to bug me that there's this thing in your head that has something to do with us that you don't want to share."

"It's not that I don't want to share it, Clint, it's just that I don't know how to... say it."

"And straight out isn't going to work?"

"I... not really."

"I could start guessing if that would help. Narrow down the possibilities at least. You could tell me if I'm getting hotter or colder." A touch of snarkyness was creeping into Clint's voice as he talked. "Is it something about the house?"

Phil didn't say anything, but Clint had had enough experience reading his expression to know that that wasn't it.

"OK, not the house. Work? A problem with us working together? No, not that either. OK, then, is it about our sex lives? Aha!"

Phil had glanced up at that last question in a very obvious tell. At Clint's triumphant 'Aha!' the tips of Phil's ears went a little red.

"And you already promised me that it wasn't something bad, so it isn't that you're unhappy or unsatisfied with our sex life, so it has to be... something that you want to do and you're embarrassed to ask for it. C'mon Phil, after all the stuff we've talked about, and done together, what could be... Is it something really kinky? It must be something really, really kinky. Hmmm... I'm going to have to think about this."

Phil had reached for the TV remote during Clint's monologue and was flipping through the channels looking for something to watch. 

Clint sat silently next to him while he watched an episode of "Mad Men." When it finished, Clint reached over and took the remote out of Phil's hand.

"Fisting. It's got to be fisting. Which I am totally all for, by the way."

"Clint, that's not it."

"It's not?" Clint sounded disappointed, and Phil filed away that piece of information for a later date. "I was so sure. I'll get it. Unless you want to put me out of my misery and just tell me?"

"What's for lunch?" Phil asked, changing the subject.

"I'm not dropping this. Just so you know. Do you want pizza? Or I could make sandwiches?"

~~~~~

That night Clint tucked Phil into bed and carefully arranged the pillows so that they supported his injured side. Then he climbed in on his side, lay back, laced his hands behind his head and said,

"Leather. You're secretly totally into leather and you want me to wear one of those leather harness things. I'd be OK with that, Phil."

"I'm not secretly into leather."

"You know, it would be a lot easier if you just told me."

"Run out of guesses already?"

"Nope. Just getting started. You know me, I can keep this up for days. You'll be back at work and I'll pop into your office and ask if it's watersports." Clint glanced quickly over to gauge Phil's reaction, but was disappointed. "You don't want that, do you now?"

"Not particularly, no."

"So why don't you just tell me?"

Phil sighed. "Maybe tomorrow."

~~~~~

The first thing Phil heard when he woke up the next morning was,

"Is it some sort of roleplay thing you want to do? No, you wouldn't be embarrassed to ask for that."

"Clint."

"It can't be a threesome, I know you're not into that. Maybe I've got the wrong idea, maybe it's not a kink per say, but somewhere weird you want us to have sex. Is that it? "

"Clint, stop."

"Mile high club? That shouldn't be too difficult to arrange."

"Condoms."

"What?"

"Condoms." Phil repeated.

"Condoms." Clint said. Phil nodded.

"Condoms? All this has been about condoms? Glow in the dark? Flavoured? Ribbed? Phil, what?"

Phil sighed and looked up at the ceiling.

"We've never used condoms for oral," he said.

"Uh, no, we haven't. Do you want to start?"

"No," Phil said quickly. "No. We've never used condoms for oral or any kind of barrier for rimming. We, ah... get tested very regularly, thanks to SHIELD medical, and we're monogamous. So I what I wanted to talk to you about was, um... maybe not. Using them. For sex." 

"You want to go bareback."

"Only if you're OK with it, I don't want to -"

"Yes. Totally yes. Phil why the hell were you so nervous to ask me that?"

"Because I thought maybe you thought it was, you know... um..."

"Too personal? Too risky? Too soon? What, Phil?"

"Gross."

"You thought that I might not want to stick my dick in your ass bareback because it was gross."

"Well, it can be really messy, and the way you reacted the first time I rimmed you, you seemed unsure about it being, um.... sanitary. So I wasn't sure how you'd feel about it. That's all."

"OK, I guess I can see that. But Phil, really? You tied yourself up in knots for days over asking me if I was OK with not using condoms?"

"Look, I'm not always so great at the relationship stuff either. Sometimes I don't know what to say, or how to say it. And yes, I worry about something being too much or too soon. I don't want to pressure you, Clint. Ever."

"God I wish I could hug you properly right now. I love you. It's OK if you don't say something or ask something exactly right, Phil. We'll figure it out. We always have so far, haven't we?"

"Yes, I guess we have."

"Good. Now, next time there's something you want us to talk about it, please, please just tell me, OK?"

"I'll try."

"OK. Good. What do you want for breakfast?"

"Waffles."

"Waffles it is."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks always to my excellent editors t! and Shazrolane.
> 
> Find me on Tumblr at: [Queen of Wands](http://jmathieson-fic.tumblr.com/)


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